A whisper crept through the sidestreets of the city, the dark grooves in the city surrounding the station. While the day was bright and sunny, the alleyways were dark and shadowed; the perfect hiding place for the creatures of the night. Cracked stones lined the ground, and trash piled up in the corners, huddling against wastebins as if they were eager to join their “comrades.” The occasional twin points of light would gleam from the corners, and the scuffling of claws scraped against the cobblestones, often followed by the occasional screech.
Sure, it was a dangerous part of town, but Wraith knew that. It was also the most efficient for travel, however; and who would want to attack a Shuppet, anyways? Worst case scenario, she would have to hide for a little while. But that was hardly a problem when you were essentially a floating cloth.
She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know when, but she knew she had to get to the train station before Train #3-33 reached it. She needed to board that train. From birth, she had an uncanny way of just knowing things, predicting events before they could happen. Lots of Pokémon could claim they thought something bad was going to happen; Wraith could actually and truly say that, with absolute certainty. Her predictions never missed their mark. There was a catch, though; she never quite knew what was going to happen, and she couldn’t control when she had these “predictions.” But for now, she knew something important was going to happen on that train, and she needed to be there.
As usual, she was speaking to herself; a whispering murmur that gave her the aura of some spirit or poltergeist. Most of it was just thoughts on what she would do next, how she would get on the train without a ticket, and a couple chants and sayings in an ancient and unintelligible language. She hurried on, emerging into the light of the sun, just outside the station…
-~-~-
A Swellow was perched on one of the many benches in the station, a book in her wings. A pair of small, oval spectacles rested on her beak, and she peered through them at the letters on the pages. The Struggles of the Mages read the peeling, golden letters lining the book’s spine. Immersed in the book, she was oblivious to all that went on around her.
Flight never believed in the Mages, but their legend was one of her favorite stories of all time. She had loved the story since she was little, how the Mages worked together to imprison Bloodcrusher, the demon, only to be brought down by the Rock Mage. As a child, she had dreamed of becoming the Wind Mage, but now she knew better. This was reality; there were no Mages or Demons, and that was the way it would always be. The way it always had been. It would never change.
Now she had a real job, and she took pride in being a librarian, and more often than not she was absorbed in a good book from her work. She enjoyed spreading the joy of reading with the world and giving books to others, provided they brought them back for others to read, of course. However, she was the no-nonsense type, and wasn’t afraid to give others a good talking-to if they broke a rule.
As a result of her hard work, she was being promoted… to an even bigger library! She hid it well, but she secretly rejoiced in the thought of working at one of the largest libraries in the region. Her only achievable dream was coming true…
Trying her best to block out the racket of the other Pokémon, she buried her beak in her book again, squinting at the pages.
-~-~-
And then there was Scarlette.
You see, that’s how she always thought about herself. There were Pokémon. And then there was her. Not that she wasn’t a Pokémon, but she was… different. In more ways than one. Her appearance, her powers, her personality, even just the way she carried herself were odd and unique in their own special ways. Scarlette made an effort to be different, and she was proud of it.
But who could resist having a little fun?
Sure, she was waiting for a train, and everyone else was throwing things at the Pelippers, too, but the train was late(as usual) and this was the kind of thing she would do anyways. She was down for a little mischief, especially if it involved downing those ridiculously annoying Flying-types, squawking their heads off as they gossiped. Arceus, she hated gossip.
Looking around first to make sure no one was watching, she pressed her claws together and formed a snowball. No need to cause a ruckus due to somebody asking her how she did that. After all, it was a unique ability of hers, to create ice and snow at will without using moves.
Unique. Oh, how she loved that word.
Turning the medium-sized snowball over in her claws, she eyed one of the Pelippers and then chucked the freezing sphere at it. The Flying-type was hit right square in the face, and after flapping about stupidly for a moment, it spiraled to the ground. She covered her mouth and snickered, another snowball appearing in her palm. “Now that’s what I call fun,” she said aloud.
Glancing over at the others throwing things at the Pelippers, she threw her new snowball… but this time, she missed the target altogether, and the snow hurdled toward a Gallade nearby. Unsure if it had actually hit him or not, she rushed over and blurted out a scrambled apology. “S-sorry! My bad! I didn’t mean to hit you; I was aiming for the Pelipper over there and… Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She put her claws over her eyes, embarrassed that not only had she missed, but she had quite probably hit some complete stranger. She hoped that she’d missed him, too, or he’d dodged it or blocked it or… something.
Ooc; AMG SO MUCH MUSE FOR SCARLETTE.
…Also. I TOLD you I’d be writing essays for posts. This is just over 1,000 words :'D
" She took off running, leaving the Weavile behind.